


Life is Short and Living is the Hardest Part

by icouldgonova



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, But some fluff too, Jack is sad, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, bitty wants him to be happy, coffee shop AU, there are cat videos, there are lots of pies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 06:46:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icouldgonova/pseuds/icouldgonova
Summary: Bitty goes to Samwell, but doesn't join the hockey team. Instead, he's working at what happens to be jack's favourite coffee shop. Which should be great for everyone, except that it's Jack's last year at the University, and he's facing a future he doesn't want.





	Life is Short and Living is the Hardest Part

**Author's Note:**

> So, as you may have seen in the tags, there is a suicide attempt about halfway through the fic, as well as suicidal thoughts throughout. I didn't go into details, but please take care of yourself and stop reading if you feel triggered!
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

The corner of the old coffee shop where Jack was sitting was bright and warm and the air felt thick in his lungs. He liked it there. It was _his_ corner, or at least it felt that way to him. To be precise, the coffee shop wasn’t old at all (ten years give or take), but it had a comfortably worn atmosphere about it. The seats were soft and sank down when you sat in them. The mugs were all different shapes and sizes and colors. The scones and muffins and cookies were baked fresh daily. The pies were to _die_ for. If you were to ask Jack about the pies, he would go on and on and on. The shop only had a few employees. One of them, a college student in his sophomore year, the one who baked the pies every day, was wiping off the counters and tables and smiling brightly at everyone in the shop. Jack sat looking at him from his corner. Staring, actually. Jack stared at people an excessive amount for someone who hated eye contact (or any kind of contact at all). This particular employee had never talked to Jack, but Jack knew quite a lot of information about him: his name was Eric Bittle, he was a sophomore at Samwell, he baked the most excellent pies, and he liked to use Faber Stadium to practice figure skating early in the morning before the hockey team played. Jack liked to get up early. He liked to practice before the rest of his team, so imagine his surprise when last year he had found this beautiful boy skating graceful loops around the rink. It was like the boy was born on the ice, for the ice. Jack would have given everything to skate with this boy, but he had nothing to give. So he had watched him skate almost every day for two years. And when the boy showed up at Jack’s favorite coffee shop and started baking delicious pies, Jack wasn’t going to argue.

Jack Zimmerman was captain of the Samwell Hockey Team. Elected by his teammates, three years in a row. He was the heart and soul of the team, he held them together, he led them to victory. But it was all over. He was a senior, and two days ago the team had played its last game of the season. Jack’s last ever game at Samwell, with his teammates, his friends, in the only place he had ever felt accepted. And now it was over.

Jack had never thought about life after college. He had never wanted to. Subconsciously, perhaps, he’d decided that if he never thought about it, it would never happen. Time would just simply slow down and stop. Time however, being the obstinate creature it is, had only gotten faster as Jack’s senior year had come to end. He was approaching graduation, and he didn’t have a plan. Not for his future, not for his career, nothing. The one plan Jack _did_ have was for tonight, and that was the only one he needed. Tonight, Jack was going to end all need for any other plans. For real this time; no rehab, no ‘get better soon’, just the end. Last time, Jack hadn’t really wanted to kill himself. He hadn't really meant to. He had only wanted a break from all the pressure of choosing a team and living up to his father. Then he went to Samwell, and suddenly the pressure was gone. But as Jack sat in the coffee shop, it all came back. The pressure and the expectations and the thought that he wasn't good enough. _He could never be good enough_. His team didn’t need him anymore, and the world didn't seem to either.

Eric Bittle turned around just in time to see the sad boy in the corner look away. Eric smiled to himself, and then to the boy, who was staring fixedly into his mug of coffee. Eric didn't even know his name, but he always sat in the same corner of the shop, and he never looked anyone in the eyes. As well as this, Eric could have _sworn_ he had seen the boy sitting near the door of the rink when he was practicing his skating. As he was cleaning off the tables, Eric wondered idly what made the boy look so sad all the time. He was cute. Really cute. The kind of cute that made Eric’s heart beat fast when he saw him. And don’t even get started on all the kinds of hot he was. 

Jack had finished his coffee at least fifteen minutes ago. He couldn't sit any longer, he needed to leave this place. He needed to leave for good. He took one more look around him, and his eyes stopped on Eric. Jack took a deep breath. He thought to himself, suddenly, that since it was his last night on earth he could do whatever he wanted. No repercussions. He’d be gone tomorrow and wouldn't need to face the fear that anyone would find out he liked guys, and there was no future to worry about being ruined because of that fact. So, he took a deep breath, and walked up to Eric, who was now behind the counter cleaning the coffee machine. “Excuse me,” he said, and was surprised to hear that he _said_ it, not muttered or mumbled it, “I just wanted to say…I love your pies, and I think you’re really cute. And…your figure skating is amazing. I wish you all the luck in the world.” Jack turned to leave, not wanting to see the effect his words would have on the boy, but a certain bubbly voice with a southern accent made him look around again.

“So it _was_ you watching me skate. Why, thank you. But, may I ask, what are you wishing me luck with?”

“Your life.” Jack answered simply, and the he hurried out of the shop. 

Eric looked at the door swinging shut behind Jack. He was blushing and he felt shaky. _He called me cute,_ he thought, _what does that mean?_ Eric decided that definitely meant he was into guys. Cool. But something bothered Eric about the conversation. He didn’t know who the boy was, he’d never talked to him before, but he could tell that something was off. Why was he so _sad?_ Eric looked at the clock, and made up his mind that it was okay to leave work ten minutes early. He took off his apron, hung it up, and then ran out into the night. 

Jack was making his slow way to Faber. He felt he couldn't kill himself in the Haus. He owed his teammates that much at least. He couldn't think where else to go, so he figured why not in the place he loved most. His heart hurt at the thought that Eric Bittle would be the first to find him there, when he came in for his early morning practice the next day. Then, as if by magic, Eric appeared right next to Jack. Jack stopped in surprise, and Eric took the opportunity to say, “Sorry for following you but you seemed down, and I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

Jack barely held it together then. Eric’s kindness cut him to the core, and he was making it so hard to focus. Jack didn't want this. He didn't want distractions, he wanted to stop. He looked away from Eric and tried to hide his tears. This wasn't meant to happen. Jack didn’t want to feel anything anymore, and this boy was getting in the way. It was too much. He was just being nice, but he would never like Jack when he got to know him. Jack couldn't date a guy anyway, it'd ruin his career. Jack wouldn't have a career _anyway_. 

“I don’t know your name.” Eric’s voice cut through Jack’s thoughts.

“Jack Zimmerman.”

“Sounds like the name of a celebrity…” Eric said thoughtfully. That made Jack think. About his Dad, about his career that would never happen, about everything that had lead to this. He remembered the last time he had loved a boy, and how it had quite literally nearly killed him. He couldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t. 

“Look, I have to go. Thanks for, you know, checking on me or whatever. Goodnight.”

Eric looked confused, but he didn’t stop Jack from walking away. He simply stood there, wondering what Jack’s deal was. He thought about how sad he looked, and then slowly turned and left.

Jack walked around campus. He thought about leaving a note for Shitty, but decided not to: Shitty would understand, he would know why Jack had to do this. Jack walked to the rink, and went for one last, long skate around the stadium. He skated fast and he skated slow, but he didn’t feel like he was flying. Usually, when he was on the ice everything else went away, but this time he felt like he was being weighed down by the world. So eventually he gave up skating and went to the place where he watched Eric figure skate every morning. He sat for a long time. 

***

Meanwhile, in his dorm room, Eric couldn't sleep. There was noise buzzing all around him, and his mind kept wandering back to the sad boy in the coffee shop. _Jack Zimmerman._ Eric tried and tried, but sleep was out of his reach. At 2 am he decided to give up, and go for a late night skate. Or early morning, same thing. It was only a few hours before he usually got up to practice anyway. He got dressed quickly and ran all the way to Faber. He just wanted to skate; he just wanted to think in peace. 

Eric entered the rink quietly, skates in hand. The stadium felt sacred at this time of night. Jack sat in the corner, pill bottle in hand. The world was spinning the wrong way for him at that moment, but he didn’t seem to care as he swallowed another piece of medicine his body didn’t want. It was a fluke, really, that Eric happened to glance in his direction right before he went onto the ice. It was a fluke that he had come there at all. But he had come, and he did look.

Eric dropped his skates. “Oh my goodness,” he whispered, and then “Oh. My. Goodness. JACK!” He ran over to the where Jack was sitting. He was already almost blacked out from the drugs. Eric was shaking as he dialed 911. He took Jack’s hand, because he was still alive and Eric wanted him to know he wasn't alone. 

***

When Jack woke up in the hospital he almost cried. It was too similar to last time. He had promised himself he’d get it right this time. He wasn’t meant to wake up. Not again not again not again not again. He pushed his face down into the pillow and thought about disappearing. He slept for hours, and when he woke up again, it was from a loud knock at his door. A nurse came in and checked all his vitals, and then told him he had a visitor. Jack couldn’t think of anyone who would want to visit him but Shitty, and he wasn’t up to facing Shitty. Not yet. He shook his head, but the nurse was insistent.

“He waited here all night. We told him to go away but he refused. We thought we had finally gotten rid of him this morning but he just came back with flowers and pie.”

Jack didn't think Shitty had known last night. Shitty wouldn’t bring flowers (he’d bring beer). So it must have been whoever found him. Jack didn’t know who had found him. “Fine,” he said, and closed his eyes as the nurse walked away. 

Eric shifted nervously outside the door. This was the first time he’d been to a hospital since his Gran had died when he was 8. It smelled too clean and all the beeping was driving him nuts. He wasn’t even sure Jack would want to see him after everything that had happened last night. _No one ever tells you what to do when a cute boy compliments your cooking and then immediately tries to kill himself._ He pushed the door open and walked into the room. It was small, with one bed, and a weird blinky machine that Eric probably stared at too long. Jack was lying on his side, all hunched up like he was protecting his vital organs, facing away from the door. Eric cleared his throat and said, “Good morning. Well, I guess it’s not a _good_ morning. Actually it’s past noon, so it’s not morning at all. But you’re alive, and that’s good…I brought you pie.”

Jack’s heart broke when he heard the familiar southern drawl. He sat up, still facing away from Eric, and tried to swallow the oncoming tears. “Did you…Were you…I mean—was it you who found me last night?” he asked. His voice was scratchy and every word hurt. 

“Yeah. Yes. I was just going for a skate. I couldn’t sleep. And then I saw you and…well you were almost dead. I thought you _were_ dead for a minute. And all the ambulances came and they didn't try to stop me from riding with you, and it didn't seem right to just leave you.”

“Oh.” Jack knew that wasn't the right thing to say. He knew he should be thanking the boy for saving his life, for going out of his way to make sure he was all right, but Jack never did have a way with words.

“I’ll just leave this here then,” mumbled Eric as he set down the pie and flowers. “Goodbye Jack. Get well soon.”

Jack almost called after him, but everything in his body hurt, and he needed time to figure stuff out. 

***

Eric went back to his dorm room, and then back to his life. He skated every day, and tried not to look at one corner of the stadium. He worked at the coffee shop, and tried not to look at the place where Jack used to sit. He went to classes, and tried not to think about the sad boy, and how he was, and what it would be like to kiss his sadness away. Jack recovered. Shitty knew what happened, as well as the rest of the team, and his parents of course, but the story hadn’t found it’s way to the news (thank goodness). His Mom kept telling him he should go home to get better, but Jack wanted to stay at Samwell. His Dad kept telling him it wasn’t too late to join an NHL team, but Jack said he just wanted to graduate. But that wasn't entirely true. Jack also wanted to find Eric, to say all the things he hadn’t said before and just to see his face before he left the University. 

A few days before graduation, Eric was humming to himself quietly (Beyoncé) as he wiped down the tables in the coffee shop. It was his last shift of the school year. In four days, he would be on his way home. He had decided not to go to graduation—it would be long and boring and he didn’t know any of the seniors that well. He looked up as the door opened, and gasped as Jack walked through the door. Jack stopped when he saw Eric. Eric, on the other hand, ran over to Jack and just barely caught himself before he hugged him. Instead he blurted out, “Hi! How are you? I haven’t seen you for a while. Although I guess that’s to be expected.”

“I’m ok,” Jack responded, “thanks to you. I meant to say in the hospital: thank you. For everything. And that pie was delicious.” Jack smiled, and forced himself to meet Eric’s eyes. They were bright and happy and everything that made Jack melt inside. 

“You _are_ a gentleman aren't you?” said Eric, smiling all over. “I have an extra in back if you want it, it’s just going to waste.”

Jack laughed. “I’ll eat it if you’ll join me. I really should get to know the man who saved my life.”

Eric ran into the kitchen, trying not to blush because he was about to share a pie with the most beautiful boy in the world. Jack stood trying not to regret what he had just said. They sat in the corner that Jack thought of as his, and ate and talked and laughed. They sat there far longer than they should have, considering the pie was gone in 5 minutes flat. Neither of them wanted this to be over. They ended up sitting right next to each other, laughing at cat videos on Eric’s phone. Suddenly, the screen went blank, the battery was dead. In the same moment, Jack realized how close his face was to Eric’s. Leaning over the phone was safe, but now? Now their faces were close and their eyes were unoccupied. Oh this was dangerous. Jack could feel Eric’s breath on his face, and his scent was washing over him (cookies and cinnamon and warmth). Jack closed his eyes, and let himself fall towards the other boy. He didn’t think, he just wanted. He smiled into Eric’s lips because this felt so _right_. When he broke away he saw Eric smile so wide that he kissed him again. Eric looked at Jack and realized that it was the first time he had ever seen him look happy, and that made Eric happy, and they both sat there and shined in the corner of the coffee shop. Jack looked at Eric and thought maybe he wouldn’t have a professional hockey career (maybe he would, who knew?), but maybe he _could_ have a future. Sitting there, with Eric right next him, he felt like he could. And maybe that was enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Trust me to be able to make a coffee shop au sad.
> 
> The title of this fic is from "I'll Be There" by Hollywood Undead, which is a really good song, and always makes me think of Jack and Bitty (I 10/10 recommend listening to it).
> 
> If you notice any typos or have any thoughts, please let me know!!!


End file.
